


Halo

by murasaki_gyps_eng (murasaki_gyps)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: A bit of personal headcanons, Character Study, Georgi Popovich POV, M/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 19:35:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18079628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murasaki_gyps/pseuds/murasaki_gyps_eng
Summary: Georgij Popovič loves dull days without rain – water upsets him almost as much as sunny weather. He only wants the reassuring screen of clouds between him and the sun, that seems to exist only to burn his eyes. He doesn’t appreciate shiny things, not even in the books he reads, the movies he watches, the fairy tales he loves the most. He has always rooted for the villain for aesthetic reasons rather than ethic ones. All that light needs a counterpart: life stands out much better if contrasts are well balanced, if there’s a misunderstood antagonist, who makes the protagonist look even better in comparison. He has never been the villain, no, but the misunderstood one… that role belongs to him.When Georgij Popovič meets Viktor Nikiforov for the first time, he's blinded by his light but he also finally see the truth about himself.





	Halo

**Author's Note:**

> This was a little one-shot - more a character study than a proper fic - I wrote two years ago and only posted on Tumblr.  
> Might as well post it here, too. Pre-Viktorgij. Also, Georgij being born in Novosibirsk is a headcanon of mine, I talked about in [Nature Boy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10783515/chapters/24833589), too.
> 
> This is not beta-ed, sorry in advance for any mistake.

_Unwanted, uninvited kin_  
_It creeps beneath your crawling skin_  
_It lives without it lives within you_  
_**(Dream on | Depeche Mode)**_

The sun glare on the snow can be blinding. Like a blade of light, it cuts your eyes in half until it burns your retinas. It’s one of Georgij’s most vivid memories of Novosibirsk, especially when his gaze gets lost in the streets of Saint Petersburg. They’re cement grey and too far away from the birch and pine forests on the banks of the Ob.

Too much light always slightly upset him. Things lose their perspective and become flat, bleak, when sun hammers down on them. Every little flaw stands out in front of his eyes in the light of a sunny day. Maybe that’s why he always chose to go out skating at sunset. That’s and, well… because he was certain he wouldn’t meet his not-so-nice schoolmates. They – the amateurs! – cut the ice of the neighbourhood pond in half, not even knowing how to properly balance themselves on their ice skates.

More importantly, shadows are comforting. They blur colors, soften outlines and meet his desire of gloominess. It goes along with his rebellious teenager phase or… well, no, maybe that’s not a phase, it’s a permanent state of mind. His love for darkness and scary things will never leave him, not even when he will be in his thirties.

Georgij Popovič loves dull days without rain – water upsets him almost as much as sunny weather. He only wants the reassuring screen of clouds between him and the sun, that seems to exist only to burn his eyes. He doesn’t appreciate shiny things, not even in the books he reads, the movies he watches, the fairy tales he loves the most. He has always rooted for the villain for aesthetic reasons rather than ethic ones. All that light needs a counterpart: life stands out much better if contrasts are well balanced, if there’s a misunderstood antagonist, who makes the protagonist look even better in comparison. He has never been the villain, no, but the misunderstood one… that role belongs to him.

Now that he’s free to create his programs all by himself, he can even pour those feelings into them. Georgij’s fifteen, he lives of absolutes and is absolutely persuaded he prefers darkness to light. He knows very little about the world, after all, perhaps that’s why he gets so mad when it _happens_.

It doesn’t happen the moment Yakov says, “This is Viktor Nikiforov. From now on he will train with you all,” and introduces the already shining star of the Russian figure skating world to all his students. Georgij knows him, he knows his reputation, he watched him skate but never paid him much attention. They’re the same age, he’s nothing more than a rival and Georgij definitely doesn’t need a peer to teach him how to win. His time will come and it will be soon, he’s sure of it.

Georgij’s fifteen and he gets mad, when he Viktor Nikiforov stands a few steps away from him. He has long hair, grey as silver threads, and the slender body of a sylph. He will become a man, one day, but for now he’s still as thin and malleable as a reed.

He gets mad because he finally _watches him skating_ and the only thing he can see is pure liquid light, dancing in front of his wide open eyes.

There’s something disturbing and beautiful in the way Viktor can glide over the ice. He flies – as if he didn’t even need to sink the blades in the smooth surface of the rink to slide a little further.

There’s something sacred and blinding in his controlled gestures, when he raises his arms over the head or when he smiles. He’s happy and pleased, while he tries his steps and let himself go with charming self-confidence. Georgij can’t even believe this skater is the same, clumsy fifteen-year-old, who greeted his new teammates just minutes ago.

And Georgij gets mad, because he doesn’t possess that self-confidence, yet.

He gets mad because, above all, the light that emanates from each and every one of Viktor’s jumps and sliding steps is a blade of light that doesn’t cut in half his eyes but his heart. It plunges deep in the middle of his chest and leaves him gasping, breathless. Morning light suddenly hurts him in a too pleasant way, when it passes through the windows of the rink and shine over Viktor’s hair and naked shoulders.

Georgij’s fifteen and he gets mad, because he ends up admiring that light and those skills. In front of them he suddenly feels too young, awfully inept, and discovers something even more disturbing.

Maybe out of the rink Viktor smiles too much to cover the comforting inability to functionally relate to others – like any other fifteen-year-old. On the ice, however, Viktor Nikiforov has already conquered everything. He even possesses a shadow, big and blurred, and it makes the light of his skills shine even more brilliantly. It’s the same light that blinds him, when Viktor walks by and smiles, curiously asking him to show how well he can skate.

Georgij gets mad because it takes him only one instant to surrender, the instant he needs to nod and take a step into his shadow. It’s the same shadow where he wanted to hide for so long and where he gets bogged down with his ice skates, too.

Georgij never really loved the light, especially in the books he reads, the movies he watches, the fairy tales he loves the most, the programs he makes. Growing up, though, means changing your mind, and he discovers with rage and confusion that he’s missing something.

He’s missing the light that could make his shadow stand out even more. Now that he finally starts to desire it, though, another truth, sour and thin, creeps down his stomach: that light is almost impossible to reach.

He’s so accustomed to stand in the shadows, he can’t even look at it directly, because that light cuts his eyes in half and burns his retinas, until it devours his heart, too.


End file.
